Come Monday Morning
by Kailey Hamilton
Summary: That lovely Friday afternoon, Theodore Nott was more than ready for a peaceful weekend. Except that a war was taking place, and the only person he cared for was fighting it. Oneshot. Theodore Nott/Morag MacDougal. Warnings: Mentions of torture.


_Disclaimer: Recognize it? Not mine._

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**Come Monday Morning**

That lovely Friday afternoon, Theodore was more than ready for a peaceful weekend. Come Monday morning, life would go on as normal.

Except that the weekend had begun and a battle was taking place.

He'd wanted to leave – he didn't understand what he was doing there. The only person he foolishly cared about was his ex-girlfriend, and she was sure to take off as well.

Then again, he also cared about his father and the Nott family pride. More than actual care was the fact that he knew what his obligations were, no matter how much he loathed paying loyalty to the Dark Lord. There was nothing in Theodore's forearm that could bind him to the Dark Lord or incriminate him for his human weakness and stupidity.

Thinking of what his father could do to him if he disobeyed, Theodore knew that whatever could happen to him in battle was a much better alternative.

And so, when his housemates were busy trying to get away, he was trying to find a good hideout, some place in which he wouldn't be harmed but could abandon when the right time came. That was how he'd ended up sitting below a window in the Astronomy Tower.

_No one will come up here_, he reasoned. _I'll wait it out._

Pleased with himself, he relaxed and let his body go limp. He'd never needed the weekend so much – he'd been tortured for refusing to punish Terry Boot in that exact same way. He couldn't care less about that snooty know-it-all, but Boot was Morag's friend and he wouldn't raise a wand to hurt anyone she loved. Even when he knew that it would result in two people being tortured instead of one.

_That's what happens when you let people in_, he reckoned. _They just grow on you like a parasite and they feed on you, until there's nothing left._

…Then she'd suddenly broken up with him, and he was left alone wondering why. It had taken him that long to learn how to love someone; two years weren't enough to learn how to stop.

Their relationship had quite the banal beginning - it all started because of her looks. Even worse, it hadn't been her gleeful face or her twinkling eyes that drew him in, but her clothes. He'd asked her out at the Yule Ball out of utter boredom, musing how classy she'd looked wearing an actual, old-fashioned dress robe instead of a cocktail dress like some girls did.

Had he suspected how compatible they were, maybe he would've refrained. But he gave Morag the chance to charm him, and charm him she did.

He sighed, laying down and letting his thoughts win him over.

The sounds of battle seeped from between the cracks and into the windows – screams, hexes, steps, cries. He could see a fire in the distance – the Quidditch pitch, he discovered with surprise - and against its lights, the silhouettes of giants and people on broomsticks and-

"Who's there?"

The question startled him and made him get up, wand in the ready, his own pain and musings stored away for the time being.

He looked in direction of the door, and there she was.

Morag MacDougal, the girl who had giggled when he'd cursed her ex-boyfriend. The girl who would hear him speak of pain and means to provide it with interest and even some mild amusement. The one who knew so much about Dark wizards and witches that hearing her speak always seemed like a privilege to him.

And there she was, fighting for everything he never knew she stood for.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"What are _you_ doing here?" She pointed her wand at him, and the sole gesture hurt him more than any hex ever could.

"Hiding," he promptly answered. "I'm not going to hurt you, Morag."

"I know," she whispered. Her hand shook, and finally, she lowered her wand with a long sigh. "I should go, Theodore."

He reveled in the way she said his name - softly, serenely, like a stream flowing from a hidden spring; like the flight of a butterfly in a quiet prairie. His name always seemed elevated when it was uttered in her voice, like it was only meant for her to say it.

"No. You should stay. You have nothing to do out there."

"I have something to do – I have to do the right thing."

"Leave that to the Gryffindors, for Merlin's sake!"

To his surprise, she laughed. "They're fools, aren't they?" For one brief second, Theodore believed she would agree to stay. "Maybe I'm foolish too. At least I'm a fool whose heart is in the right place."

"And just how does that benefit you?"

"This stopped being about me long ago, alright? They've hurt so many innocent people… I just can't stand the feeling that I'm condoning those acts."

"They can hurt_ you_," he insisted. "They can kill you."

"I know. It's only fair."

That was Morag – with the way her twisted little mind worked, she was probably thinking it was unfair everyone was being tortured while she was consistently safe. She always yearned to experience, to make mistakes and to live her life to its fullest. Sitting idly by wasn't made for her and now that he thought about it, he could only wonder what had taken her so long.

"Why just now, then?"

"I've learned from my mistakes. That's all there is."

…Then the deafening sound of an explosion startled them both, and Theodore knew that any attempt at convincing Morag to stay would be futile.

"I must go."

"Don't."

It sounded like a command, and for some reason it made her offer a weak smile. She walked up to him, and he wished so badly that he could have her again…

But she was the one to hug him and oh, she was the one to press her heavenly lips to his and he thought that it was worth staying in that hellish place just because of that fleeting moment.

_Come Monday morning_, he thought,_ life will go on as normal and I will take her away._

She tasted like grapefruit; sweet and sour, red and orange, and then it was over and she was running away from him.

"Morag!"

…Then he was running after her, panicking, because she was in danger and he couldn't take it. But the castle was dark even with the jets of light flying through, and he couldn't keep track of her until he heard her scream, scream, _scream_.

And without thinking, he reached for her and pushed her aside.

Her eyes, instead of relief, showed a horror that let him know that he'd made a mistake. He'd saved her, so he wondered as he faced Morag's opponent what he could've done wrong.

And then he knew.

"Father…" he whispered. It sounded like he was begging and he didn't like it. "Father," he repeated. But the note of desperation was still there.

His father's wand rose in the air and he knew he needed to catch up, but he was too paralyzed.

"Run, Morag!" he yelled. He saw the flash of green light just as he managed to raise his own wand.

_Come Monday morning, life will go on as normal…_

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_Notes: This is for the following challenges/competitions on HPFC - Camp Potter (Prompt: Write about the Astronomy Tower during the war.) Also for the Fanfiction School of Imagination and Creativity (Prompts: Cocktail dress, grapefruit, Monday morning, Morag MacDougal, hearing, stream.)_

_Special thanks to **Jess (autumn midnights)** for her amazing speed-beta-reading skills!_

_And thanks to you too, reader!_

_-Karyn._


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